


Rise Up

by willowbough



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Future Fic, Gen, Hamilton References, Hey kids let's put on a show!, Ice Skating, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowbough/pseuds/willowbough
Summary: Budding choreographer Leo assembles a select cast to help bring his favorite musical to the ice...





	1. Prologue: What's Your Name, Man?

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of _Hamilton_ finally coming to our neck of the woods, we came up with this sort of cross-over (we've been referring to it as HamilYuuri!!!)
> 
> Background: Our favorite skaters are in Switzerland, putting together a touring ice show for the summer months. Some routines are already set, but Leo has had a dream for some time, and he recruits several of his friends to realize it, from rehearsal to performance.
> 
> Another collaboration with AnneAhn.

They were gathered rinkside, leaning on the barrier: the European contingent of Chris, Emil Nekola and the Crispino twins, joined by Otabek and Team Russia—Georgi, Mila, Yuri, and Victor himself.

Yuri was the first to break the silence, grumbling. “So what is all this about, anyway?”

“Leo’s side project,” Chris replied. “He got Phichit, Guang Hong, Seung-gil, and Yuuri all into it, so Victor probably knows the most about it.”

“But I don’t!” Victor protested. “My Yuuri hasn’t told me a thing. He hasn’t even let me watch him practice!” He pouted slightly at the unfairness of it all.

“I overheard them at lunch a few days ago,” Sara mused. “They were talking about a musical show Leo saw in New York. Phichit and Yuuri said they’d seen it, too. I remember because the title was like a skater’s name: Hamill, Hamilton…”

“ _Scott_ Hamilton?” Emil asked. 

Chris shook his head. “One of the grand old men of figure skating? He’s retired! And as far as I know, there’s never been a musical about him. Or Dorothy _Hamill_ for that matter.”

“Then who?” Emil persisted.

“I saw one of their costumes,” Mila chimed in. “They look… old-fashioned. Nineteenth-century, maybe.”

“ _Hamilton_ ,” Otabek said suddenly. “I think I heard something about it when I was training in America—”

Before he could continue, the lights went down. There was a short, brisk beat of drums.

“ _Seventeen seventy-six_ ,” came a chorus of voices over the speakers, “ _New York City._ ’’


	2. Can We Confer, Sir?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo has a proposition for Yuuri, Phichit, and Guang Hong.

_Four weeks earlier_

 

“ _Hamilton_ on skates?” Yuuri asked. 

“Think of it as a chance to try some hip-hop on ice,” Leo suggested, watching him closely. He didn’t know Yuuri as well as some of the other skaters, but from what he’d seen of his programs—not to mention the photos Phichit had sent to his phone—the guy had some killer dance moves. Plus, after victories at the Four Continents and Worlds, Yuuri had kind of become a hot commodity…

“We couldn’t do the whole thing,” he continued, “but a couple of numbers—”

“Did you see the show?” Phichit asked. “Ciao Ciao took us when we went to meet sponsors in New York.”

“Twice,” Leo replied, grinning. “I paid the first time, then got lucky in their ticket lottery. I’ve been wanting to do a on-ice salute to it ever since.”

Yuuri hummed, not committing himself yet. But behind his glasses, his eyes were bright, even speculative, and his mouth was starting to curve in an almost-smile. Phichit—always ready to try new things—looked intrigued as well.

Emboldened, Leo leaned forward in his chair. If he could convince these two, he might actually be able to pull this off. 

“Well?” he prompted. “Wanna give it a shot?” 

“I’m in if _you_ are,” Phichit announced after a moment, nudging his friend. “C’mon, Yuuri, it’ll be fun!”

Yuuri‘s smile widened slowly into a grin. “Okay, let’s do it, Phichit-kun!” He turned to Leo. “Now, who else do you want for this?”

***

“Leo asked me to skate the Laurens part, but I just don’t know, guys,” Guang Hong said uneasily as he removed his earbuds. “The character is so… confident and brash. Not like me at all.”

“The costume will help,” Phichit assured him. “I felt like I could do just about anything when I wore my ‘Shall We Skate?’ outfit.”

“Phichit’s right,” Yuuri chimed in. “A costume can make you feel like someone else when you wear it. I don’t think of myself as—as a seducer. But when I put on Victor’s costume for my Eros program, I found I could play the part, after all.”

Guang Hong pulled a slight face. “Not everyone can carry off black mesh or sequins and a gold sash. You two looked amazing, but I’d just feel like an idiot, dressed in either of those.”

“I don’t think that’s what Leo has in mind,” Phichit pointed out. “We’ll be wearing eighteenth-century style costumes, like in the show.”

“Frilly shirts,” Yuuri said. “And vests. Waistcoats. I bet a fancy waistcoat would help, and we could do something with your hair too, since it’s too short to pull back in a queue like mine and Leo’s.”

“Tease it,” Phichit suggested. “And add some mousse so it holds a curl. You’ll be fine, Guang Hong, and we’ll all help each other with our look. We’re in this together, after all.”

“I could borrow some of Victor’s hair products,” Yuuri mused. “He’s got tons of stuff, and I think he won’t mind if it’s for a good cause.”

“Don’t forget make-up,” another voice added from the doorway. “That can also make you look older—and bolder.”

Guang Hong flushed. “Leo! How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Entering the locker room, the American skater smiled at his friend. “Guang Hong, do you think I wouldn’t do everything I could to make you feel more comfortable in the part?”

“I just don’t want to let you down, Leo,” Guang Hong said earnestly.

“You won’t! You’ll be great—we’ll all be great.” Leo straddled the bench in front of the younger skater. “And I’ve even got some ideas to help you get into Laurens more. Wanna talk about them?”

Guang Hong practically glowed. “Sold!”

Phichit and Yuuri exchanged a significant glance. 

“We’re going to get in some practice—you two meet us on the ice when you’re ready, okay?” Yuuri said and made for the door without waiting for an answer.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit heaved a theatrical sigh as they let themselves out of the locker room. “Were we ever that young and innocent?”

“Young, yes,” Yuuri acknowledged. “Innocent….” he eyed his friend pointedly, “Well, _I_ was.”


	3. A Mind At Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes to the routine require another cast member. But who? Meanwhile, Yuuri gives two Russians the slip, but in different ways.

“ _Look around, look around_ ,“ Yuuri crooned, washing his now-empty mug of tea and setting it aside to dry, “ _at how lucky we are to be alive right now._ ” 

An image of the Nishigori triplets dressed as the Schuyler sisters rose in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Leo was right: the score was addictive.

“ _Look around, look around, At how lucky we are to be alive right now…_ ”

He broke off as arms twined around him from behind and nearly six feet of damp, affectionate Russian pressed against his back.

“Not that I object to the sentiment, Yuuri,” Victor murmured, nuzzling his ear, “but that doesn’t sound like what you usually sing when you think you’re alone.”

Which tended to be some of the J-pop songs he and Mari used to listen to, Yuuri reflected with a touch of embarrassment. 

“Oh… that was just something Leo recommended,” he said vaguely, then turned to kiss his lover, fresh from the shower, still dripping slightly, and indecently gorgeous as ever.

Victor leaned into the kiss, but when he started to steer them both in the direction of their bedroom, Yuuri reluctantly but firmly detached himself.

“Mmm?” Victor hummed a protest, but Yuuri dodged the reaching hands.

“Early practice, Vitya. I gotta go—we’ll come back to this later, I promise!” Teasingly, he flicked his lover’s nose.

“Practice? Not the tour? We’re not rehearsing until noon.”

“No, it’s something else. Leo’s got an idea for a project—it’ll be an experiment, but it sounds really good.”

Victor pouted at him. “You don’t usually keep secrets from me, _zolotse_.”

“I’d tell you more if I could, Vitya, but I kind of promised that I wouldn’t. Not yet. Anyway, it’s a surprise,” he added, catching up his skate bag en route to the door. “Aren’t you always telling me how much you love surprises? See you later.”

***

The Katsudon was up to something, Yuri was sure of it. This was the second day he’d seen him leaving their hotel, heading in the direction of the rink, but without Victor glued to his side.

Was he already planning next season’s programs? Yuri wanted a look, especially since his bronze at Worlds still rankled: what would he have to beat this time? 

He was going to find out!

***

Yurio really needed to work on his stealth skills, Yuuri mused, noticing the leopard-print hoodie reflected behind him in the windows of the buildings he passed. The inches the younger skater had gained in his recent growth spurt also hampered his attempts at concealment. 

He paused in his forward progress, made as if to turn around, and saw the leopard print whisk behind a lamppost. 

Yuuri struggled with an almost overwhelming urge to laugh. He bit his lip to control it, took several more steps forward, then bent over as if to tie his (perfectly secure) shoe. The leopard print ventured closer.

Yuuri fought the temptation to walk back the way he’d come and confront his stalker, just for the amusement of seeing the other’s discomfiture, but that might have proved a risky pleasure. Instead, he resumed his progress to the rink, but alternating his traveling speed between brisk strides or leisurely stroll, tracking the leopard print as it tried to match his pace.

He slowed dramatically as he approached the rink, coming to a complete stop briefly to study the sky, as though looking for rain clouds, even stepping back the way he’d come—before whirling back to dash to the rink door. Unlocking it, he ducked inside, then re-locked the door as the leopard print broke from cover… and Yurio smacked his hands on the tinted glass in frustration at being outmaneuvered.

_Katsudon: 1, Rage Kitten: 0._ Permitting himself a tiny smirk, Yuuri strode towards the locker room to change.

***

There had never been any question among them that Leo would be skating Hamilton’s part. 

“It’s your baby,” Phichit had pointed out. “Just fill us in on the other roles.”

Guang Hong had finally agreed to take on Laurens, while Yuuri and Phichit were to skate Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan, respectively. Leo had already sketched out some early choreography for each of them.

“Laurens goes first: he makes the big splashy lead-off, then settles into a slower rhythm. Lafayette wants to show off but differently. He’s cool, he’s suave, he’s French, he should start slowly and then put his big move at the end. And Hercules Mulligan wants to be different again from the other two.” Leo looked up from his scribbled notes. “How does that sound so far?”

“Sounds good,” Yuuri agreed. “So Guang Hong goes fast, I go slow, and Phichit—“

“Even faster,” Leo decided. “Something really flashy!”

“All right!” Phichit cheered, grinning.

“So, I was thinking circular footwork for Laurens and Lafayette,” Leo went on. “Which they punctuate with a big move like a jump or a spin—you know, BOOM!”

“Like a quad toe?” Guang Hong asked.

“Or a triple axel.” Leo turned to Yuuri. “Your spread eagle into a triple axel is awesome. I was thinking we should include that. You could take off on ‘Who’s the best? C’est moi.’ And then for Hercules—a really quick straight-line footwork sequence…”

They spent the next hour trying out the steps, experimenting with what did or didn’t work. As easygoing and laid-back as Leo was, he could be every bit as intense as Victor when it came to choreography, Yuuri discovered as they ran through the routine yet again.

Afterwards, they leaned against the barrier, gulping water like camels and talking in half-sentences until their breaths came back.

“Looking good so far, but I’m thinking we need context,” Leo said, after a while. “I’m going to have to include more of ‘Aaron Burr, Sir’ so our audience will have a better idea of who everyone is.”

“Which means we also need a Burr,” Yuuri pointed out.

“Yeah. Been thinking about that. I was considering Otabek—he’s reserved enough, but he’s more… like a soldier than a politician.” Leo sighed sharply, running a hand through his hair. “If I had unlimited resources and could use our whole company, I’d ask him to skate Washington—”

Phichit clapped him on the shoulder. “Someday. Meanwhile, who else might fit the part?”

Leo brought himself back into focus. “We need someone good at being cool, distant, and aloof. Any ideas?”

Phichit snorted a laugh. “I think _I_ can handle that. Just… give me a day,” he added, but refused to elaborate further.

***

Seung-gil Lee’s brows arched. “ _Broadway musicals_? But I know nothing about Broadway musicals!” And would prefer to remain in ignorance—or so his tone implied.

Undaunted, Phichit pressed on, “You could do it! The characterization isn’t hard at this point: you just have to skate a little away from everyone, looking aloof, superior, and slightly disapproving. It’ll be easy,” he cajoled. “I’d say the part was practically made for you.”

The Korean skater maintained a dubious silence, so Phichit continued his campaign. “ _Hamilton_ ’s the hottest ticket on Broadway right now. Doing it on ice would get everyone’s attention—lots of exposure, publicity—” he gestured for emphasis, “ _buzz_!”

“We’d get good… buzz,” Seung-gil repeated haltingly, as though using an alien language—which he was, partially. His brow furrowed as he mulled over the words.

“It would be a great opportunity! Of course,” Phichit added with studied nonchalance, “if you decide you’re _not_ interested, maybe Cao Bin would be willing to give it a try. After this past season, he’d probably jump at the exposure…”

“I suppose,” Seung-gil began judiciously, “there could be an advantage in attending your rehearsal to hear what Leo is planning.”

Phichit hid a grin. “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock.”


	4. (I Wanna Be In) The Room Where It Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow there'll be more of us...

“It’s been more than a week,” Phichit marveled. “I can’t believe you haven’t told Victor yet. I thought you’d crack after three days!”

“Well, we all promised Leo we wouldn’t say anything until things was further along. And besides… Victor loves to surprise and be surprised,” Yuuri explained. “And I’d like to keep that part of our relationship alive. I mean, we live together, we see each other every day, he’s my coach—“ 

“He’s your _fiancé_. He’d still be smitten if you fell on your ass.”

Yuuri hunched a shoulder. “Me falling on my ass isn’t exactly a surprise. All this on the other hand…” He gestured towards center ice where Leo was working with Seung-gil on refining Burr’s choreography at the start of the number.

The South Korean skater’s willingness to join them had been a surprise to everyone except Phichit. But Leo had recovered almost at once and was soon expounding on his vision for Burr.

_“Smooth, graceful, and controlled,” he’d told Seung-gil. “Burr is always controlled and unlike Hamilton, he doesn’t doubt his place in the world. He’s not reckless, either. He weighs everything he says or does, but even when he’s not in motion like the others, his presence is still felt…”_

Initially skeptical, Seung-gil had been won over by their first rehearsal together, even asking to hear more about the show since he had no idea when he might be able to see it himself. 

“Leo’s really good, isn’t he?” Guang Hong remarked, watching the pair on the ice.

Yuuri made a sound of assent. “He’s musical, and he knows how to make the most of his strengths—and others’. I thought the same at the Cup of China.”

“I think our _Hamilton_ tribute is going to be _awesome_ ,” Phichit added.

Seung-gil struck a pose, standing with his arms crossed and a coolly assessing look on his face as though watching a performance he hadn’t yet made up his mind about.

“That’s great!” Leo said warmly. “Just like that.” He turned to his audience, motioned them forward with a grin. “Okay, guys—on to the next part.”

Yuuri, Phichit, and Guang Hong skated out to center ice and waited for directions.

“Now during the _second_ round of raps…” Leo ranged himself beside Guang Hong, with Yuuri and Phichit positioned opposite, a few feet between the two pairs. “Seung-gil, you—as Burr—will be skating right through the middle of us, then doubling back in a figure eight, interrupting what you think of as our overheated conversation. ‘Geniuses, lower your voices.’” 

“Figure eight,” Seung-gil echoed, frowning a little as he attempted to picture it.

Leo sketched a looping curve in the air with his hands. “You don’t really disagree with what we want to do, but you disagree with how we think we should do it. We’re all set for frontal assault—spit in King George’s eye. And you’re more—“

“Subtle?” Seung-gil asked.

Leo grinned. “Yeah. And sneaky. You think Alexander and his friends all sound brave but maybe not very smart.”

“It’s hard to argue with that, Leo,” Seung-gil observed.

“But they didn’t see it that way,” Yuuri pointed out.

“No,” Leo agreed. “Part of it was how everyone thought back then—Hamilton keeps talking about dying gloriously in battle. Burr sees that as being cannon fodder.” He looked back at Seung-gil. “After your interlude, you should withdraw a bit to the side. As Hamilton and his bunch get rowdier, you should get more and more still. Not interacting, always watching, never gone.”

Seung-gil’s eyes widened, his usually impassive face revealing his heightened interest

“That sounds cool!” Phichit exclaimed. “And maybe when we get to the tech part of things, there could be a separate spotlight on Burr by himself.”

“I was thinking of that,” Leo told him. In fact, he had a separate set of notes about all the technical details, from lighting to music cues. “But let’s get the moves down first.”

Skating over to the boards, he connected his MP3 player to the boombox set up on the barrier, and used the remote to click to the right track. “Okay, everybody?” He turned to the other four. “Let’s take it from the top!”

***  
_(Two days earlier)_

_“Hamilton engages Burr,” Leo said, as they worked to construct “Aaron Burr, Sir” together. “Burr finds him interesting but thinks he’s misguided, and leads him on to the rap trio at the tavern. Burr thinks of them as bad examples but Hamilton finds them exciting and contests Burr’s point of view.”_

_“So we need to be fascinating,” Phichit said with a grin._

_“Pretty much. You don’t notice Hamilton at first, but you’re acquainted with Burr, remember. You’re talking some trash with him because you don’t agree on much, and then this kid pops up and grabs all your attention. So_ I _have to be fascinating too,” Leo added with a self-deprecating grin._

_“You can do it, Leo—I know you can!” Guang Hong blurted out, then blushed._

_Leo turned a little pink himself, but smiled at Guang Hong. “Thanks, buddy.”_

***

They were well into “Aaron Burr, Sir” and the crackling energy boded well for the final result, Yuuri thought. Leo might have some doubts of whether he could capture Hamilton’s magnetism, but the way he pursued Seung-gil’s Burr across the ice like an excitable puppy had them all grinning expectantly. 

The lead-in to the first round of raps went smoothly too, Guang Hong landing his quad toe with a flourish. Channeling Victor at his most on-ice elegant, Yuuri glided into his spread eagle, then launched himself into a textbook triple axel. Phichit followed with his footwork sequence, sharp and snappy. The three of them skated briefly back together, then broke into a semi-circle as Seung Gil’s Burr approached, with Leo’s Hamilton just at his heels. Guang Hong, as Laurens, skated breezily up to drape an arm over Burr’s shoulder, while the characters bantered back and forth on the recording.

_“The revolution is imminent. What do you stall for?_

_"If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?"_

All five of them froze on the ice, realizing simultaneously that the words had originated not only from the boombox, but live, from the side of the rink.

_"Who? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?"_

The dialogue echoed weirdly over the ice as Leo reached for the remote and clicked the stereo off. Turning, they all spotted the lone figure leaning against the barrier, starting a slow clap into the silence.

“Who’s—” Guang Hong began, but Seung-gil raised a hand to stop him.

“JJ,” he said tersely, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry," Phichit groaned. "I was last one in--guess I forgot to lock the door."

The Canadian skater continued to clap for another five seconds, as Leo, Yuuri, and Phichit left their formation to skate toward the barricade. After a moment, Guang Hong and Seung-gil followed.

“Wow,” JJ said as they approached. “Just—wow. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Have you seen the show?” Leo asked.

“Caught it once on Broadway when the band was down in New York for a gig. Loved it.” He sighed. “Never thought you could put it on ice, though. You guys looked great out there.”

Yuuri blinked. It was unusual to hear brash, abrasive JJ expressing appreciation for his erstwhile competitors like this. But his own view of the Canadian skater had altered since watching him fall apart at the Grand Prix final. Human, after all. 

JJ paused, looking oddly… wistful. “I don’t suppose—is there any little place I could, maybe… squeeze in? Just for the fun of it?”

The parts were all taken—Yuuri kept his mouth shut. This was Leo’s call, really.

JJ put his own interpretation on the silence, his face falling a bit. “I know—you’ve probably got everything lined up already. Sorry for trying to butt in—”

“No, hang on,” Leo said slowly, sounding thoughtful. “Stick around, JJ, okay? I’m… getting an idea.”


	5. The Man Is Non-Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright young man...
> 
> Yo, who the f is this?

“So at the end, you take the scepter and point it at the audience, like a rifle, do you see?” Leo demonstrated with the broomstick he’d found in one of the rink’s janitorial closets. “And you’ve gone from being kind of funny and wacky to being menacing—like a scary clown. Ronald MacDonald turned Psycho.”

“Got it,” JJ said, and followed up by “Ronald Who?” with a perfect deadpan. Leo ignored the bait and continued.

“Think of it as a classic soft-shoe number: Astaire, Gene Kelly, dancers like that. Only with a crown as your top hat, and a scepter as your cane.”

“So… that means a lot of footwork.” JJ absent-mindedly twirled his own broomstick like a baton.

“Yeah. Maybe a spin, let me think about that—no jumps, though. Too undignified for a king. Let’s try this—can you follow me?”

****

“ _How do you skate like you’re running out of time_?” Phichit sang softly, from the barrier where he and Yuuri were gathered with Guang Hong and Seung-gil. He gave a low whistle as Leo and JJ struck their last poses, broomsticks cocked jauntily over their shoulders like bayonets.

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, understanding completely. “Victor designs his own programs—and mine too, now—but even he hasn’t tried choreographing for six skaters at a time. At least, not yet.”

“So that means Leo’s really talented at this, right?” Guang Hong ventured, lighting up at the praise of his friend.

Yuuri smiled. “He’d make a professional choreographer for sure, when he decides he wants to stop competing.”

“Okay, you guys are up next,” Leo called from the middle of the ice. “Show me what you’ve been working on.”

“Frat party on ice,” Phichit promised. He, Yuuri, and Guang Hong took their places at center ice, skating briefly in a circle before starting their first series of rap moves.

The routine got off to an awkward start when Guang Hong overbalanced on his quad toe and had to put a hand down to save the landing. He flushed, cursed in Mandarin under his breath, but kept going. Yuuri flowed smoothly into his triple axel, but Phichit was frowning slightly at the end of his straight-line step sequence.

“You okay?” Leo asked.

“Just—feel like I’m slow today.”

“We can run through it again later,” Yuuri said. “I’ll help, Phichit-kun.” 

They continued up until the start of “My Shot,” when Leo called “Cut!” with an easy grin. 

“Sorry about the quad toe, Leo,” Guang Hong apologized. “I’ll get it right next time, for sure!”

“I know you will.” Leo gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s what rehearsals are for, right? Getting all the bugs out. Looking good, though, for the most part. Take a lap with me?” He turned to the others. “And take five, the rest of you, before we go into ‘My Shot.’

“So, Laurens,” he began conversationally as Guang Hong skated alongside him.

Guang Hong’s eyes wavered a bit, looking down uncertainly toward the ice. “Am I messing up the choreography for him? I know my quad toe isn’t always consistent…”

“What? Hell, no, your quad toe is great—and I know you’ll nail it next time!” It was the rest of the attitude that needed work, but Leo was looking for a way to say that tactfully to his friend. “The, uh, tech elements are fine.” Maybe _that_ was the right approach. “Let’s go back and look at the performance components.”

He wracked his memory for all the reading he’d done after first seeing the play. “Laurens was pretty well-off financially, he and Burr would have been in the same social circles. He was fiery and idealistic, he wanted to abolish slavery almost a hundred years before the government finally got around to it. He has big dreams and he’s in your face about them.”

He glided to the side of the rink, letting them both stand still for a moment of reflection.

“In your face,” Guang Hong repeated. Leo knew his friend’s English was good enough to understand the idiom, but translated anyway.

“Confident—even over-confident, opinionated. Maybe a touch belligerent. Cocky.” An idea came to him and he gave way to temptation. “Think a little bit JJ, a little bit Yuri Plisetsky.”

Guang Hong made a faint, choking sound that was almost a laugh. “I’m not sure I can skate like either of them.”

“You don’t have to, not really. But we should work on your swagger. Laurens starts off the rap circle in the tavern, he needs that big, flashy entrance that tells everyone to look at him.” Leo grinned. “That’s what makes your quad toe so perfect for that moment. But the swagger has to start it off before the jump.”

Guang Hong looked as though he was thinking hard. Leo had another flash of inspiration.

“Think of all the heroes in _wuxia_ —or those action movies you like. Now _those_ guys would swagger.”

Guang Hong bit his lip—adorably—but nodded, determination in his eyes and the set of his jaw. “Okay, I’ll try it!”

They started the solo sequence again and to Leo’s surprise and pleasure, Guang Hong added an extra swing to his hips, a lift to his chin as he set up for the quad toe—which he landed as softly as though skating in his slippers and as smoothly as if he’d been doing quads all his life.

****

In a far corner of the rink, under Yuuri’s supervision, Phichit had rehearsed his footwork sequence twice, finally declaring himself satisfied. JJ, who’d been watching with interest, asked if they’d spot him while he worked on his own routine.

Which, on repetition, was proving to be unexpectedly challenging. Footwork usually did, Yuuri mused as JJ overbalanced, arms windmilling wildly, then sat down on the ice with a thump.

“Oof! That was harder than I thought,” the Canadian remarked, after a moment.

“The choreography, or the ice?” Phichit asked.

“Both.” JJ accepted Yuuri’s hand up, brushing off the seat of his warm-up pants. “Got a confession to make. When I was a kid, I always wanted to be one of you little, quick guys with the fast feet. But I grew too tall.”

“Victor would say extra height can give you the edge in power moves,” Yuuri told him. “And he would know.”

“Chris is tall too,” Phichit added. “So were Evan Lysacek, Brian Boitano, and Robin Cousins! Tall enough for a basketball team!”

“And Cousins was brilliant at footwork,” Yuuri said. “Minako-sensei showed me some of his old routines. So I’m sure you can master yours too, JJ. Maybe practice the steps off-ice until they’re perfect, then try them again on-ice. That’s how we’ve been rehearsing the hip-hop moves for ‘My Shot.’”

“More dance practice, huh? Well, it beats falling on my ass,” JJ conceded.

“Especially if you’re the king, right?” Phichit said.

“Hmm. The king playing the King.” JJ broke into a sudden grin, holding up his hands in a slightly different formation than the one he normally used. “That’s G-3 style!”

The other two groaned. 

“That’s bad even for you,” Phichit remarked.

JJ glanced from one to the other, seemed to realize that he was being teased, and grinned at them, a little hesitantly.

Leo and Guang Hong skated up just then, the younger skater looking noticeably more at ease. Seung-gil, who’d been having a drink of water over by the boards, set down the bottle, and stroked up to join them.

“Okay, ready to go?” Leo asked them all. “We’ll take it from Alexander’s first monologue…”

****

“ _I’m with you, but the situation is fraught_.” Seung-gil glided smoothly in his figure eight around the two pairs: Yuuri and Phichit, Leo and Guang Hong, then came to a stop between them. “ _You’ve got to be carefully taught, if you talk you’re gonna get shot_!” He threw out a finger-gun, then dropped his hand to his side.

“Okay,” Leo paused the recording, dropped character to resume the role of director. “Seung-gil, can you do that again? Maybe make the figure eight a little smaller this time: more intimate, you really want to get their attention and for that you have to get close.”

“If I get too close, will the audience be able to see what’s going on?” Seung-gil asked. “We have the whole ice surface to work with.”

“True,” Leo mused, then turned his head toward the barrier. “JJ?” 

“Yeah?”

“Could you be our eyes for a bit? See how wide or narrow the figure eight should be—can you still see what the guys are up to? Maybe try watching it from one of the upper tiers?”

“Got it,” JJ agreed, and skated toward a rinkside exit.

Seung-gil returned to his starting position as Leo reset the recording to the right place. It took three tries before JJ agreed that the figure looked both wide enough to avoid collision but close enough to engage the rappers’ attention. 

“Can you remember that ratio?” Leo asked Seung-gil, who nodded. An idea was beginning to form in Leo’s brain, and he looked at the assembled group.

“Okay, now Alexander needs to react to that,” he struck a listening pose, “and he basically contradicts every point Burr wanted to make. So let’s try this to begin—“ he pushed off, leaning forward, “another figure eight, going in the opposite direction from Burr’s. Small and tight, because he’s talking to all the other characters while he starts his next monologue…”

****

Run-through nearly complete, and Leo didn’t bother to hide his enthusiasm—or excitement. It was all coming together: music, character, and moves. The hip-hop sequences had gone off without a hitch. No one had fallen, though Guang Hong was a little slower and more hesitant on the choreography than Yuuri or Phichit. But Leo had no doubt that he’d catch up after more rehearsal.

Meanwhile, _he_ had to uphold _his_ part. Alexander’s footwork had to equal and even surpass his companions’. Leo wasn’t about to go easy on himself. _Hamilton_ wouldn’t.

As the others froze into position during Alexander’s last monologue, Leo glided forward. This choreographic sequence started slowly, then gained in speed and intensity: the thoughts of a young man coming of age, committing himself to a cause, living twice as fast in case he lived only half as long.

A segue into footwork, gradual at first, to match Alexander’s contemplative mood, the speeding up along with his thoughts, becoming almost frenetic. Rapid changes of edge punctuated by twizzles...

_Are we a nation of states? What’s the state of our nation?_

A series of barrel rolls, of the kind another Hamilton was famous for…

_I’m past patiently waiting, I’m passionately smashin’ every expectation, Every action’s an act of creation_

…a trio of Russian splits, arms and legs stretched as far as they’d go, toes pointed…

_I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow_

Then a final triple axel, flinging himself into the air with wild abandon…

_For the first time, I’m thinkin' past tomorrow!_

He wasn’t going to land it. The moment Leo launched himself into the jump, he could feel that something was off, that he was tilted in the air, that he’d be unable to untangle his feet in time…

_Shit!_

The impact knocked the breath out of him and he lay wheezing on the ice, his hip and butt throbbing in tandem. _Split, split, split… splat_ , a voice in his head observed dryly.

The first thing he heard even before the music cut out was Guang Hong shouting his name, then the scrape of blades as the others raced over to him.

Concerned faces peered down at him: Yuuri, Phichit, Guang Hong… who had somehow gotten hold of his hand. Seung-gil and JJ came into view seconds later.

“Wow, man, you really ate ice,” the Canadian remarked, lowering himself to one knee.

Leo took his comment in the spirit intended. “Yeah,” he grunted, struggling to sit up and hissing through his teeth at the ache in his hip.

“How bad is it?” Yuuri asked, kneeling in turn. 

Leo took stock of himself, relieved that his legs seemed intact. “Just banged my hip—and my butt. Could’ve been a lot worse. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.”

He finally succeeded in sitting up. “Knocked the wind out of me, too,” he added. “Good thing I don’t have to land a quad toe.”

He turned his head and managed a grin at Guang Hong, who was still holding his hand and looking slightly distressed. “Give me a hand up, buddy?”

“Sure.” Guang Hong shook his head, sounding a little breathless. With some judicious leaning, Leo managed to get to his feet and skated as far as the barrier.

“Guess we should try that again?” he asked the others, trying to inject some enthusiasm in his voice while ignoring the ache in his hip.

“Let’s not,” said Phichit decisively. “You’ve been at this since we got here—you’re the only one of us who hasn’t had any time off. Even _Hamilton_ was told to take a break.”

“You don’t want to risk falling again and getting a serious injury,” Yuuri agreed. “And remember, we’re meeting again this afternoon to rehearse for the tour—”

“That’s at four o’clock,” Seung-gil supplied. He checked his watch. “It’s just after twelve now.”

“There’s time to get lunch and some rest in,” JJ suggested. “Maybe grab a hot shower right now, so you don’t stiffen up.”

“Okay,” Leo conceded, after a moment. “We’ve all been working hard. Let’s treat ourselves to lunch out. Anyone know a decent restaurant close by?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin Cousins, the 6-foot Olympic gold medalist at the 1980 Lake Placid Games, was definitely brilliant at footwork. To see him in action, check out this routine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7a7sSuPpmcc
> 
> Skates? What skates?


	6. It's A Blur, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine...

Yuuri actually proposed the restaurant.

“I was here with Victor last week,” he said, checking his phone. “He wanted to come because Chris said they had the best beer in town. He’s doing an interview for the tour right now—anyone mind if I ask him to join us when he’s done? He’s been complaining that I’ve neglected him all week.”

“As long as he can keep his clothes on,” Phichit joked. “There are some things Guang Hong’s too young and innocent to see.”

“I’m eighteen now!” Guang Hong protested. “Legal age in most countries!”

“Even so—I think I saw more of Victor than _I_ wanted to, and I’m three years older!”

“He’ll be on his best behavior,” Yuuri assured them.

“Good to know,” Leo said, opening his menu. “So, what do you recommend here?”

“Well, anything with sausage is good. Victor and I shared a _Berner platte_ : meats, sauerkraut, potatoes…” Yuuri’s mouth twitched. “He said it was _vkusno_!”

Phichit chuckled. “He says _everything_ is _vkusno_! But I’ll take your word for it and get the same.”

Leo scanned the menu. “Might be able to order a family-sized one for the whole table.”

Murmurs of assent greeted the suggestion.

“A high-protein meal would be a sensible choice,” Seung-gil said, laying his menu aside.

“Sounds good to me too,” JJ added. “And maybe a selection of cheeses—you can’t be in Switzerland and _not_ try the cheese. And the lager!” He closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively.

Guang Hong, still looking slightly ruffled, pulled a small face that reminded Leo of when he’d bought him his first beer after Worlds, as a rite of passage. 

“It hardly seems worth the wait,” Guang Hong had complained, after the first swallow.

“It may be an acquired taste,” Leo had told him, but his friend hadn’t ordered a refill.

Now, the youngest skater ran his gaze down the list of alcoholic beverages as the server—a pretty blonde close to their own age—took their orders. “I’ll have a kirsch,” he announced when his turn came up.

JJ looked dubious. “You sure about that? It’s kinda strong for this time of day.”

“I’m old enough,” Guang Hong insisted, flushing a little. “And I had a cake with that flavor once: it was great.”

“I’ll take one, too,” Leo said deliberately. “Feel like I could use a drink, after this morning.”

“Wait,” Seung-gil held up a hand to the server, assessing Leo with narrowed eyes. “Did you hit your head anywhere when you fell?”

“What? Oh, no,” Leo blinked, realizing the reason for the question. “No, no I didn’t, thanks for asking, but I’m good.”

“Okay,” Seung-gil relaxed in his chair. 

Leo nodded affirmatively to the server to confirm his drink order, asked for a glass of ice water too, then leaned back in his seat. “If we’re taking time away from the ice, then there’re still things to plan—like costumes.”

“Probably too expensive to have something commissioned,” Yuuri mused.

“And time-consuming,” Phichit added. “We’d be better off trying second-hand clothing stores first.”

“Huh. I can think of a few places to start,” JJ chimed in. “And I volunteer my services as a shopper—and a translator.”

“Translator?” Leo echoed, puzzled.

“ _Parlez-vous_.” JJ grinned. “A perk of being French-Canadian. I was buying a present for Isabella the other day. My accent got some funny looks, but the store clerks understood what I was saying.”

“Right! Good thinking,” Leo approved. “Okay—it’ll definitely help having someone along who speaks the language.” He took out his phone. “Let’s start making up a list of exactly what we’ll need…”

They were still brainstorming when their drinks arrived, followed shortly by the food. After rehearsal, they were all starving, so several minutes passed as they helped themselves from the giant platters of meat and cheese.

Leo eyed his little glass of kirsch. _Aperitif_ or _digestif_? He slid a glance toward Guang Hong, already raising his own glass to his lips. His friend’s eyes widened at the taste, but he swallowed manfully.

 _Solidarity_ , Leo told himself as he took a sip. The liqueur was less sweet than expected, though he could taste cherries mingled with a hint of bitter almond. Not unpleasant, but he cleansed his palate with ice water, then ate some sausage and cheese before his second sip. The _Berner platte_ was as good as Yuuri had described.

“Theatrical costumer,” the Japanese skater said suddenly. “I’m sure there’s a place where we could rent what we can’t find second-hand! Like uniforms—and a wig for JJ. Unless you’d rather just powder your hair?”

JJ pulled a face. “Ugh, no powder! It’ll make my scalp itch. You sure we could find that style of wig here?”

“They have an _Opera House_ ,” Yuuri pointed out.

Enlightenment dawned. “ _Oh_. Yeah.”

“It all sounds good.” Leo checked his list again. “Theatrical suppliers especially—some of what we’ll need sounds too specialized for second-hand places. And it’ll save time we can spend developing and rehearsing.”

“Time,” Seung-gil repeated thoughtfully. “How much more time do you think we’ll need to finish? And when we do—what will we do with the program?”

That was a good question—Leo didn’t answer right away. He had been burning to see the music on the ice: what was their ultimate goal?

“The tour,” he began, and looked at Yuuri. “Would Victor let us audition the program for it?”

Yuuri nodded, suddenly grinning. “He’ll be fascinated! Anything new—surprises, remember?”

“It might not work everywhere,” Leo thought aloud, “but some places: New York, DC, there’s a rink in Boston if we go through the States . . .”

“London and Paris,” Phichit added. “LaFayette would be popular.”

“Don’t forget Canada,” JJ was grinning, too. “It doesn’t have to be everywhere. When I’m touring with the band, we change the set list for different gigs so we don’t get stale. Keeps things interesting.”

“Sounds _perfect_ ,” Guang Hong sighed, almost dreamily.

JJ peered at him. “Hey, pal, you’re looking kind of flushed. You feeling all right?”

“‘M fine. Is it warm in here?”

Leo turned his head sharply to study his friend. Guang Hong’s cheeks were pinker than usual, his eyes overbright—and his glass of kirsch was now almost empty.

“Not that warm,” he said carefully. “But JJ’s right: you are getting kind of pink.”

There was a chorus of sympathetic groans around the table.

“It’s called ‘Asian Glow,’” Yuuri explained, at Leo’s puzzled look. “It can happen when we drink. Even if I’m not—um, off the rails, I turn red really fast.”

“Oh.” Leo turned back to Guang Hong, who did not seem aware of what had been said, but whose plate was still half-full, in comparison to the rest of the skaters. “Uh, maybe, you should eat a little bit more? Or have some water? Or—um, maybe we should go for a walk or something?”

“I’d go anywhere with _you_ , Leo,” Guang Hong assured him earnestly.

Leo gulped. “Why don’t we start with outside—for some fresh air?”

Guang Hong gave him a devastatingly sweet smile. “Okay.”

Leo pushed back his chair, stood up, helped Guang Hong get to his feet. His friend swayed a little, then tucked himself almost confidingly under Leo’s supporting arm.

“Maybe you’d better take him back to his room—to rest,” Yuuri suggested.

“Maybe.” Leo grimaced in apology, fumbled for his wallet. “The check—”

Phichit waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll settle it with you later.”

“Thanks.” Leo flashed him a distracted smile, guided Guang Hong around the table and towards the door. They narrowly missed colliding with the tall, silver-haired man just entering the restaurant.

“Hi, Victor—bye, Victor,” Leo said, all in one breath.

Still leaning on him, Guang Hong ventured an airy little wave just before Leo pushed open the door and guided him out.

Victor, hand half-lifted to return the salute, raised his brows as he turned towards his fiancé. “I missed something, _da_?”

“ _Da_ , Vitya,” Yuuri agreed, patting the empty chair beside him.

****

The fresh air seemed to help Guang Hong recover his balance, though he was still a bit clingy—and sleepy too, yawning as they let themselves into his hotel room.

“Maybe a nap _would_ be a good idea,” he conceded, making no protest as Leo guided him towards the bed. Dropping onto the mattress, he tugged off his shoes and lay down, curling on his side and closing his eyes with a sigh.

“I should let you get some rest,” Leo said, edging towards the door.

Guang Hong’s eyes flew open. “No! Stay with me, Leo—please?”

Leo hesitated. But examining his conscience, he found himself reluctant to leave his friend when he was… not drunk, but not entirely sober either. “Okay—if you’re sure.”

“Positive.” Guang Hong gave him another of those sweet smiles, then scooted over on the bed—an obvious invitation. “You should rest too. You took a hard fall today.”

“Let me—” Leo looked around, found a bottle of spring water in the minibar, and brought it over to his friend. “Here. Drink this before you sleep. You don’t want to get dehydrated. That’s where hangovers come from.”

Guang Hong sat up, uncapped the bottle, and drank obediently. Leo took off his own shoes, then noticed that his friend was flushing again as he put the bottle on the nightstand. “Hey, you okay?”

Guang Hong muttered something embarrassed-sounding in Mandarin. “I just—the glass wasn’t even that _big_ , and I—“

He switched into Mandarin again. Leo sat on the edge of the bed.

“It can happen,” he said, trying to sound casual and reassuring. “It was kinda strong—I was starting to feel a little buzzed. And I don’t think you ate as much as the rest of us.”

“I didn’t get buzzed eating that cake!”

“Well, yeah—but if I remember my high school chemistry, when you add booze to a cake the alcohol bakes off. So you taste it, but you don’t get drunk off of it.”

Guang Hong grimaced. “I’ll keep that in mind next time. Or maybe just stick to water!” He bit his lip. “Sorry for dragging you away from the restaurant.”

Leo shook his head. “No problem, man. I was through eating, anyway. And what kind of friend would I be if I let you get, well…”

“Shit-faced?” Guang Hong supplied with a rueful half-smile.

Leo was startled into a laugh. “I didn’t know you knew that word!”

“I’ve been working on my English.”

“Which is already pretty damn good. And you _weren’t_ shit-faced—just, maybe, a little tipsy. At least you weren’t tearing your clothes off like Victor at that hot pot place in Beijing!” Leo added.

Guang Hong’s lips twitched at the memory. “That _was_ Victor we ran into on the way out, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Leo leaned back onto the pillows. “Hope Yuuri’s right that he’ll like our Hamilton number when we finally audition for him.”

“I don’t see how he couldn’t,” Guang Hong said staunchly. “I think it’s one of the best things you’ve done, and I’m proud to be a part of it.”

Leo felt himself flushing now, with pleasure. “I was hoping for the best when I first roped you and the other guys into this. But I didn’t expect us all to click like this. _That’s_ been the best part, for me.”

Guang Hong stifled a yawn. “Me too, Leo, Though ‘m kind of surprised JJ fits in so well with us. I thought he’d be a lot more difficult to work with.”

“I’m not. Surprised, I mean. I’ve known a lot of guys like JJ back in the States. Hockey players, mainly. They can be loud and obnoxious, but there’s no real harm in most of them.” He grinned. “Helps that JJ left his ego off the ice, though.”

“He did say he loved the show when he saw it,” Guang Hong yawned again. “Sorry, I guess it’s still getting to me.”

“Try getting some sleep, then. We’ve got time before the tour rehearsal.”

“Okay.” Guang Hong closed his eyes. “You rest too, Leo. You were working hardest of all.”

“All in a day’s work for a choreographer.” Leo stretched out full length on the bed.

Beside him, Guang Hong’s mouth curved in a tiny smile just before his breathing drifted into the softer rhythms of sleep.

Propping himself on his elbow, Leo studied his friend. His _best_ friend: sweet, earnest—and fiercely determined to prove himself. And right now, looking absolutely adorable… 

Leo shook his head, wondering if the kirsch had made him a bit tipsy too. _Dios Mio, when did_ this _happen_?

Without a hitch, another thought swiftly followed. _That boy is mine._

 _Helpless_ …

He closed his eyes, still listening to Guang Hong’s breathing. But it was a while before he slept.


	7. I Think Your Pants Look Hot...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then you look back at me and suddenly I'm helpless...

Fiancés required attention.

Mindful of that fact and more than willing to comply, Yuuri lingered over continental breakfast with Victor that morning: the two of them stretched out in bed together, lazily sipping tea and sharing a loaf of crusty bread with butter and jam.

Victor’s pout reappeared, however, when Yuuri finally slipped out of bed to dress for morning practice with Leo and the others.

“My Yuuri is so cruel,” the Russian skater moaned, draping an arm over his forehead and assuming a languishing pose. “Abandoning me for the ice yet again!”

Yuuri surveyed him fondly, reflecting that there was no gesture or position of Victor’s that he did not find beautiful. After a moment, one blue eye slitted open, regarded him assessingly. “It’s not working, is it?”

Yuuri smiled. “Nope.” Brushing back a sweep of silver hair, he kissed his fiancé chastely on the forehead, then less chastely on the mouth, tasting tea and jam. “The surprise will be worth the wait, Vitya. I promise.”

“It had better be,” his lover grumbled as Yuuri headed out.

***

Approaching the rink, Yuuri spied Guang Hong and Phichit just outside the door. As he neared, the Chinese skater looked up, saw him, and smiled.

“A text from Leo!” Guang Hong reported, waving his phone. “It says ‘Paydirt. Meet you at the rink’!”

“That must mean he and JJ found more costumes,” Yuuri remarked, pleased. 

Phichit nodded sagely. “What we’re thinking.” Leo and JJ’s previous foray into second-hand shops hadn’t netted them much, but they’d planned to visit a theatrical supplier early this morning.

“It would be great if we could get that part of things settled,” Guang Hong added.

Yuuri was about to respond when there was a loud rustle from the shrubbery outside the rink, followed by a sudden blur that was Phichit in motion, and then an indignant squawk.

“Hey, Yuuri, you’ve got a stalker!” Phichit reported cheerfully, holding his quarry by the ankle.

Yuuri blinked at the blond teenager glaring daggers at them all. “How long were you hiding in the bushes, Yurio?” 

Yurio flushed, but did not answer. “Let me go!” he snapped at Phichit,

The Thai skater shrugged. “As you wish.” He released the younger boy’s foot so quickly that Yurio lost his balance and sat down hard on the pavement. 

He bounced up again almost at once, still glowering, the full focus of his ire on Yuuri.“You’re up to something, Katsudon! I want to know what it is.”

Yuuri crossed his arms and regarded him with mild reproof. “Just a project, Yurio, and I haven’t even told _Victor_ all the details yet. So I’m certainly not telling _you_. You’re just going to have to be patient and wait for it, like everyone else.”

Yurio made a noise like an affronted cat. And Guang Hong sighed.

The Russian skater turned a hostile gaze on him. “What?” he demanded brusquely.

Guang Hong returned his gaze without flinching. “Don’t you get tired of being angry all the time?”

There was no judgment in his tone, merely curiosity and a wonderment that was at once disarming and disconcerting. Yurio’s scowl melted into genuine surprise, even confusion, at the question, which Yuuri suspected had never been asked of him before.

Before Yurio could respond, however, the rumble of an approaching motorcycle drew their attention. The rider paused by the curb, pushing back his helmet’s visor to reveal a familiar face.

“Yura, I’ve been looking for you,” Otabek Altin began. “We’re having lunch together, remember?” He nodded a greeting to the others.

“Coming, Beka,” Yuri said after a moment. “I don’t need to waste any more time on these losers.” Loftily ignoring Phichit’s derisive snort, he donned the helmet Otabek handed to him, and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. Ever courteous, Otabek waved briefly as they roared off.

“The power of the cinnamon roll,” Phichit commented as the motorcycle vanished into the distance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shut him up like that before.”

“It’s just—he’s always mad about something,” Guang Hong explained. “I don’t understand why. He’s Grand Prix champion, World bronze medalist… he had a senior debut most of us would kill for. He should be happy about that, right?”

“He’s a bit less angry now that he’s friends with Otabek,” Yuuri observed. “He may just have to… grow out of it.”

“Can’t happen soon enough for me.” It was Phichit’s considered opinion that Yuri Plisetsky was a brat. A talented brat, but a brat nonetheless.

Guang Hong made a small sound of assent, then waved again. “Seung-gil!” he hailed the approaching Korean skater. “Leo and JJ may have our costumes!”

Seung-gil’s brows rose at the news, and he quickened his pace.

***

“A local revival of _Les Miz_ wrapped up last month,” Leo informed them triumphantly. “So we’ve got waistcoats, breeches, even uniforms to choose from!”

“ _And_ a whole selection of wigs, thanks to a spring production of _The Marriage of Figaro_ ,” JJ added, grinning. “Powdered and unpowdered.”

The benches in the changing room were piled with clothing, and they each began to rummage. 

“Hey, Yuuri!” Phichit tossed a heavily trimmed shirt at his friend. “Think this has enough frills for a French marquis?”

Yuuri held it up against himself dubiously. “A little long in the arm for me. JJ?”

He held it out to the Canadian, who accepted it with a raised eyebrow. “I guess it might fit me. Men sure loved their lace back then, eh?”

Leo grinned as he sorted through a pile of waistcoats. “Status symbol. Lots of lace meant you had the money to buy it, _and_ the _cojones_ to wear it!”

“Well, Mulligan wouldn’t be wearing any of the lacy stuff. He’d be _making_ it,” Phichit pointed out, holding up a much plainer shirt.

“So… Laurens would be kind of in the middle, right?” Guang Hong asked. “Not as plain as Hercules Mulligan, but not as fancy as Lafayette or King George.”

“Right. And Burr would likely be the same. They were gentlemen born. Alexander would be a little below Laurens and Burr, but above Mulligan.” Leo paused. “Well—he might be closer to Mulligan really, he was a gentleman’s _bastard_ son. But he’d dress like a gentleman, because he wanted to appear and be accepted as one.”

“So, muted colors?” Yuuri suggested. “Grey or brown or dark green?”

“For Burr and Hamilton, yeah. Maybe something a little more flamboyant for Laurens?”

“As long as it’s not as bright as Seung-gil’s mambo costume,” Guang Hong said, with a faintly teasing smile for the Korean skater, whose own lips twitched in response.

“At least you wouldn’t have any problem being noticed if it was,” he pointed out.

Leo chuckled. “Let’s see what we can find. Maybe something striped or embroidered?”

Some fifteen minutes later, each of them had a small pile of clothes to choose from. Taking off his t-shirt, Guang Hong buttoned himself into one of the smaller ruffled shirts.

“Can you help me with the neckcloth, Leo?”

“Sure.” Leo sorted through the pile, picked up the neckcloth that appeared to match the shirt.

“…The mirrors will be bigger in the ladies’ dressing room,” Phichit was saying somewhere behind Leo. “And the light might be better. Let’s go take a look over there!”

Guang Hong was standing very still, looking up through his eyelashes. Leo slipped the cloth around the back of his neck, pushing away errant strands of hair.

“Can you lift your chin a little?” he asked, then as Guang Hong obeyed, he looped the cloth once around his friend’s throat. “It ties in front, as I recall.”

As he reached for the dangling ends, Guang Hong’s hands came up and closed over his.

Leo caught his breath, startled by the unexpected contact, the warmth and intimacy of his friend’s touch. Guang Hong flushed, but his gaze was steady on Leo’s—and held just a hint of a challenge.

Leo felt his own face heating in response, and as the silence thickened around them, he came to a sudden realization.

Everyone else had gone, and they were now alone in the changing room.


	8. ...I Like You A Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so into you...

Leo finally broke the silence. “Guang Hong,” his voice sounded unsteady in his own ears, “I… you shouldn’t… we shouldn’t—”

“Why shouldn’t we?” his friend challenged.

“Because you’re—”

“If you say I’m just a kid, I will _bite_ you!” Guang Hong exclaimed, then flushed.

“Then I won’t say it.” _And I’d bite you back_ , Leo’s brain added, following up with an image that made his own cheeks burn.

“Saying ‘I’m not a kid’ always makes me sound like one,” Guang Hong muttered, frustrated. “But you’re not _that_ much older than me.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Leo said cautiously.

Guang Hong looked exasperated. “Leo, I’m _eighteen_. You know that already. You were practically there when it happened.”

“Yeah, but… you’re _just_ eighteen and that’s still—” _Pretty young_ , he stopped himself from saying, as he took in Guang Hong’s determined expression.

“Leo,” his friend began, slowly and definitely, “I know what I want. I know _who_ I want. I’ve known for a while. And I knew it even before my birthday.”

It felt like an opening. “That’s what I mean. Guang Hong, you’re my friend—my _best_ friend—I don’t want to mess that up. I don’t want to mess _you_ up, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m your only choice.”

Guang Hong huffed an exasperated breath. “So, what? Am I supposed to throw myself at fifty other guys first? Sometimes, you’re lucky enough— _smart_ enough—to get it right the first time. Or the second or third,” he added, after a moment. “If it makes you feel better knowing that.”

Leo blinked, taken aback. “So, I’m _not_ the first guy you ever—thought about like this?”

Guang Hong’s flush deepened. “No—and yes. The others… really were just crushes. You’re more. A lot more.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Guang Hong took a breath, like someone getting ready to jump in the deep end of the pool. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said—and surged forward.

It wasn’t the longest kiss Leo had ever experienced, or the most forceful. An invitation, not a seduction. But a warm and _welcoming_ invitation… as Guang Hong drew back at last Leo’s knees were distinctly unsteady. 

“Well,” he said softly, his ears ringing as he smiled at Guang Hong.

“Well,” Guang Hong repeated, then flushed again, in obvious dismay. “Unless—if you really _don’t_ want to—”

“No,” Leo interrupted, reaching out to cup his friend’s face. “No, of course I do.”

As he looked at Guang Hong he was aware of the blood still pounding in his ears, and there were feelings twisting somewhere in his chest—as well as other regions—that he suspected would have gotten him arrested six months ago. 

Guang Hong seemed almost to read his thoughts. “I’m not going to change my mind, Leo. And if you feel the same, then there’s no reason for us _not_ to be together. But we can take things slow—if that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

Leo exhaled. “That might be best. Maybe we can… move on to the next level, after the audition?”

Which might be only days away, if all continued to go well. Guang Hong’s eyes lit up. “I think—that sounds just right.”

***

( _Three days later_ )

“Well?” Leo stopped the video recording he’d managed to make of their last full rehearsal, costumes and all. “What do you think?”

“I think—we look satisfactory,” Seung-gil ventured.

“Dude,” Phichit reproached, then grinned at Leo. “I think we’re _awesome_!”

“We’re definitely rockin’ it,” JJ agreed, while Guang Hong simply beamed.

Leo’s eyes found Yuuri’s. “So—think we’re good to go?”

Yuuri nodded. “I’ll tell Victor tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Leo caught the expectant glances of the mini-troupe around him. “Okay, I am _not_ saying this alone—“

“ _Showtime_!” they chorused, then burst out laughing.


End file.
